The Blonde Side Of Things
by amyjpond
Summary: AU Modern.Humor. Told through Meg's account of Christine and Meg's adventure to Paris for some education on there new career. Though, to Meg's delight, it turns out to be more then shopping, dancing and guys with hot accents. Shopoholic/POTO crossover
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, as a little humorous side project off of As the Petals Fall, I'm writing another phic. Yet, this is into the mind of our lovely Meg. Now, this is going to follow the events at a certain opera house, but in the eyes of Meg. This is completely modern (I seem to be doing modern all the time..hmm…o well). I'm actually really enjoying this phic so far, inspiration I must admit from Shopoholic by Sophie Kinsella, so bits and pieces should be expected! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy! (Also, the setting starts out in England)**

**.heart.angel.93**

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTO. (Or Shopoholic for that matter. I only own the story. Yeah. Actually, don't hold me to that. I'm broke as it is. But...i think I _do_ own it. Yeah.)**

**Don't Panic.**

Never should one panic. No. I'm not panicking. Whoever said I was panicking? Nah, I'm completely, souly-

Oh god. There he is. Oh god. Oh _GOD. _

I look around the small cafe and catch my reflection in a small marbled mirror. Okay, I don't look awful. Actually, I look pretty professional. My hair is curled into soft curls

and I'm wearing those expensive earrings I got in February with Christine. I look like I could conquer the world. Okay scratch that. I'm trying for a part, not the world.

"Miss Giry?" The man smiles at me, and as I nod we shake hands.

"Nice to have finally meet you Mr.-" Oh god, I forgot his bloody name...think Meg think! "Ritcliff." I hear myself saying.

Unknown of the presence of lost words from me, he continues to take off his coat and takes a seat in front of me.

Just then a waiter comes in like she's been waiting for this all her life, a grin on her oval face.

"Can I offer anyone something to drink?"

"Just some green tea please." I smile back to Mr. Ritcliff, as he raises an eyebrow. After she scuttles away and back with our drinks does he really talk.

"Green tea?" He shakes his head and chuckles some, taking a sip of his gin and tonic.

"Yes," I finish stirring the drink and blow off some steam. "It's a relaxing drink." Oh god. Did I just hint at being nervous? Like I needed something to be calm?! Isn't that _one_ of the things your _not _suppose to say at a meeting? Oh god, oh god, good job Meg. Next thing you know, your going to be saying "just to get the jitters off" and chug a whole bottle of wine.

"Miss Giry, we are quite impressed by your tapes." His face has now gone serious. Did I miss something? I thought we were talking about tea...

"Really?" I try to sound nonchalant, but I can't help but smile.

"Yes," He looks up from his drink to face me. "Actually we would love to see you perform sometime." With that, he brings up his briefcase and propped it up on the small table as I'm left to gaze at the sleek surface.

Oh god. He wants me to perform! Like that! Just by seeing me drink green tea and my file! I'm too happy to question it, which any proper business person would do. But I'm not. No, actually my only agent is my friend Suzy, who found this company because of Christine. So, technically, I think I should be bouncing off the wall from being so happy, I think at least…

He wants to see me dance. Not just a measly little 'call' back from the office, or another interview or any other "crap" as Suzy calls it.

Oh god, this could be my big break. Okay Meg. Get your head around this. Just TRY to listen to what he's saying.

"-we have this program that we will offer to our-" He is starting to drone on, and I'm not completely following. See, I'm kinda off in my own little world, see? See, I'm thinking of performing like long ago, and being able to actually _pay _off some of those nasty Credit bills, and send those cruel letters back to the bank. And finally! After all those years of practice...Mum is going to flip!

"-the program is a very enriching program which-" He is still droning on about this program. What program? Oh god. What if he asks? What if he asks what I know of logistics on the program?! Oh god! Wait. He won't just randomly ask that. People don't do things like that.

Maybe its like a holiday program! Or a costume arts program! Or, or! Oh god. He's staring right at me. What was he talking about?! Oh god. Don't mess this up! Think Meg!! Okay.. program...something to do with travelling..enriching...sounds good, right?

"Of course I _have_ been listening intently, but, er, can you just sum up the last part?" I smile. In the most simple way you can please? I silently beg. He looks at me, a little confused for a moment, then pulls out a brochure and hands it to me.

"Miss Giry, what I've been saying is that, we've been hiring young people with potential talent to come do our shows-"

Okay I know that part.

"But,-"

I hate 'buts'.

"We would like to send our new co-workers on a program to be more enriched in the art, more educated. We were thinking of heading to Paris to study. Of course we are planning to do some Opera sooner or later in the Theatres life, and we were hoping to learn some new tactics. The managers these days don't know what to chose honestly.." The last part he says is barley over a whisper, in a muttering tone.

I stare at the leaflet. Is this for real? Paris. Freakin, bloody Paris! I look at him trying to seem calm and nonchalant.

"You mean, _if_ I get into The Royal Elizabeth Theatre, then...I'll be going to Paris..?" I ask in disbelief.

He shrugs as though this is all normal for him. Ha. Normal!

"You see Miss Giry, I don't think it is a matter of 'if'." He leans in closer, and I feel myself follow suite. "We don't usually meet people we don't think we will hire. Usually when a meeting is called, it is to conclude our feelings. The performance is usually the last bit of the process." He takes a swig of his drink. "Miss Giry, I don't think you realize, but that dance of yours, it could really go places. And this program-"

**Oh god.** I'm going to Paris. Oh god. Oh _GOD. _

Now its official, I'm always going to listen to every little detail someone says now on!

Okay, I lied. As I see him walk out the café door, I have to admit I didn't listen to _every_ little detail…who would? All the boring stuff, like insurance-I'll stop there. Mostly because I stopped there too…Well, that's beside the point. As I leave a tip on the table I chug my newly ordered latte and grab my pea coat. Waving goodbye to the waiter, I push open the door with a brightened attitude and step out into the glorious happy day it should be.

The only problem is, there are no birds singing, no sing song music, no sunshine of happiness. Only rain. _Rain._ Isn't that suppose to be ironic or something? Trying not to seem put out, I grab my cell, while balancing my half gone latte in the other hand.

"Christine?"

"Meg! I was about to call you! But I didn't want to interrupt the meeting. So, how was it?!" Her beautiful voice fills my ears. Really. She _does _have a beautiful voice.

"Omg Christine! It was bloody amazing! I got it! _And _I'm going to Paris!"

"That's amazing Meg! Really great!" I squint out at the rain, and duck under the flap entrance of the café, avoiding a collision with a couple.

"Hey, but wouldn't you be going to Paris as well?" I ask curiously. Christine is already at the theatre. Actually, she convinced Suzy who convinced me to join.

There is silence on the other end on the phone.

"Christine. Did you know?"

"Well….I knew most members were going. I didn't know, they were practically handing out the trip…"

"Oh. Well. They are, see."

"I can see that."

"Yeah, wait. This means were going to France. Paris. _Together._" It suddenly hits me.

_What am I going to wear?_

Oh god. What am I going to do?! I have…

I look down at the program and paper that Mr. Ritclid or Mr. Ritcliffe or whatever his name was, shoved in my hands. Scanning it a smile breaks out on my face.

"Oh god Christine. Were going to _PARIS._"

"Meg. Meg. Its for the theatre remember? Don't get carried away here…" I can hear the concern in her voice. Why would she be concerned about me? OK, so _last _time we went on a trip to Scotland…I went…_ a little _overboard. But _hello!_ This is Paris France were talking about!

You know, Christine can be such a bummer sometimes. So logical in everything. Seriously, if she wasn't my flatmate, or means of something like a sister, or that she has an amazing voice, I would think she would be a lawyer. Not the kind that are dull and boring, she's just kinda…I don't know. I'm not a lawyer so I wouldn't know what there like. But, she just…_seems_ like one.

"Christine. Do you not understand?! Were going to Paris. PARIS. The place of the French! The place of shopping and hot accented men!"

Oh god. The men. I could die right now. Do you know that accented men are the best? I haven't actually heard a French accented guy….yet. But, I hear they are quite sexy…

"Meg. Just….try not to go overboard OK?"

See what I mean by a bummer?

"….No comment." I catch I glimpse of a cab from the corner of my eye and I try to flag it. "Anyways, Mum said that she would be over tonight, you know. She doesn't seem to want to leave us alone…"

"Oh really? What time? I'm making Alfredo, and there's more then enough-"

"Oh! No, really its fine." I force some shrill laughter as I get a cab and crawl in, unfortunately spraying water onto my new jacket.

See, it's not like I don't _like_ my mother, but honestly, I can't wait to leave…away from her. Now I know, she taught me everything I know, everything a mother should be…taking in Christine when her father passed away...the whole thing. But let's be frank. She still listens to a group from the seventies…and god knows what else. She's a charming person, really. Just, after about twenty four years of living with her…you tend to want to get on with your life. Yet Christine, loves her till the end of means. Which is proving to be difficult to, you know, actually separate us from Mum…

"Oh common Meg," I can hear the faint buzz of EastEnders start to come over the phone, as I can imagine Christine lying down, with a cup of tea in her hand. " or Marguerite?" She adds in playfully.

God I hate that name. That's what my mother calls me. Marguerite. Which reminds me of something French, which I think I actually might have originated from…so basically going to France is like…oh god!

Its destiny!

Now, what shoes would destiny wear?

"I've got to go Christine. Sorry, met you back at the flat okay? Fivish?"

"Fivish? It's only…two o'clock…..Meg..?"

"…Yeah, but I have some…_errands_ to do." I quickly flip my phone off and stare out the window letting go a big breath. Excitement is tingling at my toes as we approach the shops.

Oh God, this is fun.

**A/N: Really had fun writing the first chapt. Tell me what you think! R&R! Thanks! **

**.heart.angel.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So basically, this story is a Shopoholic/POTO crossover. And this next chapter is just to hold you out till I get Petals up. :D. **_

_**.heart.angel.93**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Shopoholic or POTO. Nope. Neither. Do you?**_

**Two Weeks**

So in a shop, things happen. Not just the everyday miracles. Not just the ring of the cash. No, this thing…oh god, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it. Maybe I should just take it all back. Or…or..

In other words, I went way over budget.

Did that come out wrong? I think so. I think I can say it better.

I went over my budget.

Okay, so maybe it needs some tweaking. What about-

I went without a budget?

Nah, Christine will never believe that. Okay so maybe-

There is no such thing as a budget, therefore, how can one go over one?

Yeah, that sounds ri-.. OK. So maybe that sounds like I'm dancing around the point. But it just seems…seems…so, _plain_.

I went over my budget.

And darn ugly.

Now, you can tell how I'm feeling when I'm walking into the flat. Pitiful really. Truthfully, I'm trying to hide all the bags behind me, and think of a new excuse. I shuffle quietly in, trying to be discreet. So far safe. I start to walk towards my room so I can stuff my clothes into the closet when I hear singing. Beautiful singing. Our neighbour can't sing (as much as she wishes she could) so that means….oh god.

There walking over innocently, is Christine. A bright young smile on her lips as she ties a apron securely over her middle.

"Oh Meg! Your back! Congrats!" She runs into me, as I quietly drop my bags behind me, and try to shuffle them away with my feet as she squeezes me tightly.

"Aw…." I kick away a bag hastily. "Thanks Chris! Yumm, smells good. Candles?" I say distracted. She gives a small laugh, her brown eyes shinning.

"Haha, nice Meg..." She reliezes I wasn't joking. "No, I'm cooking!" She shuffles back to the kitchen as I secure my bags into the front closet and run after her. "And, maybe some cake after..?" She turns to face me playfully.

There sitting on the counter is an icy cake that looks delicious.

"Omg. Christine!"

"Congratulations! You deserve it!" She smiles wide, happy at my reaction. I scurry over to the cake in sheer bliss. Oh god, it looks great!

"Christine…thank you!" I look up smiling. She shrugs in her innocent way and stirs her alfredo.

"We need to celebrate! I know on the phone…I wasn't so…festive." She stirs slowly upon speaking, glancing up. "…I just.." She sighs and looks at me intently. "I...just didn't want you to get to carried away. I don't want anything to happen because of something…" She studies me for a moment, trying to find the right words. "…er, or something eventful." She returns to her alfredo and I shake my head in amazement. Then it hits me.

Oh god. Those bags. In the closet….Her she is, congratualting me...and those bags..

I look at her, her back turned as she hums an old folk tune of god-knows what.

"Er, umm… Well, I'll just go…freshen up…and then come back out for a drink?" I can feel my voice become shrill as I speak. Oh god. Just stay calm and causal for at least a couple minutes….

Christine turns around and gives me a look, then shrugs.

"Sure." She answers sweetly and returns to making the garlic bread.

With that, I try to sneak back to the closet and run back to my room, which luckily is uneventful. _Thank God._

Unpacking is easy enough. Basically whatever I bought goes into the closet. Soon, its all packed into my closet…well not _packed_. More like thrown…but that doesn't matter. Its all going to be put in a suitcase anyways. Smoothing out my now wavy blonde hair, I change quickly into sweats and out of my black heels. Rubbing my feet sorefully, I return to the kitchen and take the glass of wine Christine has out.

Now to be honest, I'm not one for a drink. Mostly, I would like a good Pepsi, the least cool drink to have…. But today, I feel like a glass. Or maybe because I don't want to upset Christine….either way, I take the drink.

"Smells good." I smile as I slide into a bar stool at the counter sniffing the air.

"Thanks. I'm trying a new recipe." Ah, were guinea pigs.

"I see." I nod respectively. Just like when she starts to talk about folk music. Or really anything about music. OK in my defense, so maybe I'm a dancer, sure I listen to music, but does that mean I'm obsessed with music? No. See Christine…on the other hand…she's…Anyways, that's besides the point, I'm off topic.

I smile brightly as she hands me a plate.

"A congratulation dinner, for the guest of honour." Christine smiles back, her curls bouncing slightly.

After a gracious dinner we find ourselves stuffing out faces with cake in front of the telly wastefully. Though, neither one of us really cares. Truthfully I'm just happy that my mother isn't coming anymore.

She called right after dinner, and we had a nice chat. All about my meeting, my possible new job, and basically how we're really "tired" so it would be good if she came another night.

She didn't agrue... A lot. Christine did though. She didn't like the idea of "ditching" her, which she argued was incivil. As if that was ditching her! I mentioned another…er, gathering didn't I? Right. No need to feel guilty.

--

Early the next morning, I wake up after Christine is long gone. My audition is not till about eleven o'clock that morning. Truthfully I'm not nervous. The job is basically in the bag. My, he even told me about Paris! (Not to mention I already _bought _all the clothes). So I run to Starbucks, buy a latte and grab the tube to the Theatre by ten thirty.

Soon I'm outside the theatre, staring up at the building. There it stands. In all its glory. Oh god. Its huge. Absolutely huge. OK. So I've been here before…but never during the day. It just seems…so…big…and…scary and unforgiving.…Oh god. Now I sound like a nervous break down.

--

"Miss Giry?" He calls me towards the stage and waves his hand. "Whenever you're ready." He says causally.

I swallow and take a big intake of breath. Oh God. I never knew it would be so..scary. A panel is set up in front of the stage, as it seems that I'm not the only one doing an audition today. Oh God. Now I feel like I'm on that show from America…what's it called. American….Idol? Yes that's it. Oh God. The judges are never nice…oh god…

"Miss Giry..?" I snap back to the voice of the Dj, as he nods and hits the play button. Oh God. I have to dance. Dance idiot!

So that's what I do. I dance. As the music stops, there is faint applause and I take my leave after a few comments are given to from the panel. Don't ask me to repeat them though. My blood was pounding so loudly in my ears, it blocked out the words. It's a wonder I nodded when I was suppose to. I grab my purse and start to reumage through it, trying to find my water. I look up for moment only to catch a glimpse of a dark gray suit.

Oh god. There is that man from the meeting, walking over. Mr.- Oh God. Why can't I never remember his bloody name? Oh God now hes talking. I can't even pay attention. His name is bugging me bloody. Mr. Rat? No no…

"…..We just wanted to-"

Mr. Ratlift?

"..great potential…"

Mr. Relill?

"….we would like to.."

What in bloody he- Oh! Its Mr. Ritcliff! Yes that's it!

"..The program will be in two weeks, and once again, welcome to the Elizabeth Theatre." He smiles warmly at me.

"Mr. Ritcliff!" I burst out when suddenly it dawns on me. He's been talking the whole bloody time….what did he say? Oh god. I just blurted out his bloody name…when there was no need to.

I'm such a deluded moron in the most crucial times.

"Pardon, Miss Giry?" He gives me a quizzical stare as I smile feebly back.

"Oh, er.." Oh god. Good going. What ever happened to "listening to every single detail"? Yeah, down the tubes. "Nothing. Nothing at all." Wait, did he just say that…I got the job…?

"Well then…good day. Rehearsal is tomorrow at seven o'clock. Be sure to be prompt." With that he stalks off, leaving me completely confused.

Oh God. How do I know if I actually got it? Sure he mentioned rehearsal. But…but..what if I got another job..? Like a janitor or something. OK. That's just stupid. Obviously I got the part. Right? Right. Oh God. Can't I just…er, call after him? No. That would make me seem like a bad listener. Which…I'm not…I just have many thoughts…Oh God.

Fine. I'll just…show up tomorrow…yes. I'll just be here…

So sadly, instead of walking out the backstage door happily, I walk out with a quizzical look on my face.

Maybe I should just go find Christine…. That seems like the smart thing to do..

**A/N: I know this chapter isn't exactly…er, shopoholic much. But, you could tell me that in a review! Basically there going to be in Paris next chapter, so yay! More drama…this chapter was more of a filler more then anything. :D Ya, hope you enjoyed. Reviewers get brownies!**

**.heart.angel.**


	3. Paris

**A/N: Another Chapter of our favourite blonde. So we finally go to Paris! And Meg overhears something about someone.. Hope you enjoy!  
**

**.heart.angel.93**

**Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1 (Yes, I've run out of kleenex's..)**

**Paris, My homeland**

Gee, Paris. Oh god, was that a shop? Oh god. I'm in Paris. Of course there are shops! It's the homeland of shopping! Oh god. I'm home.

Well, technically, I'm still about a thousand meters up in the air…but I'm still in Paris aren't I? Christine is sitting beside me, calmly reading a magazine on the Opera Populaire, and seems less then interested in the shops. As a matter of fact, the people looking out the little port holes, are babbling about the Eiffel tower…and the architectural aspects…Does _anybody_ on the plane know where we are?

"Christine! Were here, Paris!" I nudge her excitedly as she looks up.

"Really? Hm, how does it look?" There is a twinkle in her eye, and I can't help but smile. I should have never doubted Christine.

"Well, I can't quite see it all, but they look amazing! I think I saw Chanel down there-" I stop as Christine is giving me a funny look.

"..Meg…Are you…talking about.._shops_?" She asked in disbelief.

So Christine wasn't talking about shops. Oh god…she thought I was talking about…architectural stuff? Now I'm depressed. Doesn't anybody know what Paris stands for?

"Well…er, hey! There is the Eiffel Tower!" I quickly say, ignoring her arched eyebrows.

"Do you see the Opera Populaire?"

"Opera Populaire?" I look back to her. What is she talking about..?

"…The Opera Populaire.." She gestures to the picture in the magazine. Oh God. That place. The place were going to. My bad..

"Oh, right! Of course! Its….over…there!" I point somewhere that looks like it could be downtown Paris. Smiling feebly, Christine leans over to take a closer look. Squinting she scans the area near my finger. Oh god, I didn't actually _want _her to look…

"Oh! I see it!" Christine says excitedly. I stare at her in awe. I'm such a genius sometimes…

"_Please buckle seatbelts as we prepare for landing." _The pilot's voice echoes around us and I glance around the group. Truthfully I've only known them for two weeks, but I already feel like were one. Well not _one._ But, family-ish. Well, that's what I think anyways. Christine is annoyed by some of the new wannabe 'pri-madonna's'. Then again, the role of that is securely in Carlotta's hands. I have to agree with Christine…she is the worst-

"Miss? Can you please buckle your seatbelt?" A flight attendant cowers over Christine and I and I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. Oh god. This is embarrassing.

--

"Its amazing.." I breathed in awe, staring upwardly at the golden doors. Oh god. I love this place. It is our first trip to the Opera House, a day after the plane ride. Here I am. Standing in front of the most amazing building in all of Paris...

"Meg!" I hear Christine's voice echo through my thoughts. "Are you coming in?" I nod my head feebly. Of course! I started to walk towards the glass doors when I felt Christine's hand against my arm. "Meg….This way…" I look back at her surprised. Weren't we going into Chanel- Oh! The Opera House. Right.

"Oh, right….umm," I break off as we cross the street towards the large building.

Now I must admit. It's pretty impressive…and it should be…Christine is gaping at it with wide eyes. That defiantly gives it points. Walking into the front foyer is much of a blur, Christine is rambling on about the history of the building and all its wonders….hmm..wow.. Ok. So I'm not that interested. Sure, its supernatural to be here…but we're in Paris for petes sake! Like, Chanel is outside! Just outside! Like…we could cross the street again….

"Gosh, its just…stunning.." Christine breathes out, obviously done her rant on the golden building.

We follow the group modestly, and are lead around the theatre, a tour around the huge building. When I say huge, I mean "killing my feet walking around here.." huge.

Yes to answer that unasked question, I'm wearing heels. My new Jimmy Choo's! I also look very attractive I must say. Were in Paris after all… Anyways, I'm wearing a pink cashmere sweater with a flattering black skirt, paired with my amazing black heels. I'm also wearing my famous golden chained necklace. All in all, I look fab.

As what Christine is wearing…lets just say, what she was going to wear was hideous. OK. It wasn't _hideous._ But she was just so excited about coming to the House that she threw something on. Literally. I had to pick her outfit for her, and convince her we weren't leaving for another hour. Gosh. She's _too _involved with the music.

Anyways, beside the point. We look good, OK?

"The Opera House was built in the-" The tour guide is droning on, and I stare at him in agony. Doesn't he know that Chanel outside?! OK. I have to stop thinking about that. But seriously, what's so exciting about a Opera House? I look over to Christine for someone to talk to when I see her nodding in agreement to the tour host. Oh god. What have I gotten myself into?

--

As I walk away from the group, I feel kinda guilty…but what can I say..? It was boring! I was dying there! Plus, I think wandering around is much better then just listening to an old man drone on about the sculptures and paintings…

Oh! Look! People! Alright, so that sounded sad. But I'm so bored I'm willing to talk to anybody at the moment, and they seem to be the ballet students that dance here. My people, they can't be boring. They just can't.

As I walk up, I notice they are engrossed in conversation and I sigh. If I walk in now, they could give me the nastiest looks for disturbing them, or talk to me. God, I hate decisions

So, I decide to act normal (a.k.a pretend to be examining the artworks) and I find myself leaning closer to them, catching their conversation.

"Devonny, don't be stupid. He's a ghost, ghost's simply _don't _come out-"

"But I saw him! Admit it Josephine, your just jealous that you didn't see him!"

"You _didn't_ see him!"

"I _did_. Even Elissa agrees I saw him!"

"You did not see the _Phantom of the Opera_!" The girl I presumed as Josephine cried out. Just then and old lady, with gray-ish hair appeared from behind them with a cold look and hushed them.

Soon they scuttled away, to where I presumed was backstage, glaring at the gray-ish haired lady.

But now I didn't care about company...No, I was already thinking about this so called "Phantom".

Phantom of the Opera..? Reminds me of ghost busters or something…Christine is going to love this. I smiled as I watched them disappear.

With that I ran back to the marble foyer where I hoped Christine was, with the bloody boring tour guide droning on like no tommorow.

**A/N: You like? R&R and tell me! **


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